Can I proposition you?

Listen,
I'm not going to come at you all fancy pants bells and whistles here, but I have something to tell you, ok. Look. I've started a new band. "A new band, Sam? Fuck, man... what is this gonna be, the 19th myspace page you've started, and now you want me to be friends with?" I can hear you now. Seriously. And your thoughts sting me like a bee. Ok? I know... i know. But this one is different...
"Different, Sam? Yeah. What, does this one not include instruments? Is this some sort of vaudeville play? Different how, Sam. PERFORMANCE ART? A puppet show? How is this so different, shithead? What the fuck is so different about this, you fat fucker?"
Easy there, people in my mind. You don't have to be so mean.
"Um, apparantly we do."
Ok, I'm just gonna lay it out there. The name of the band is Supervillain!. It's sort of like Knuckledusta, except it's john gray, danny more, dan thompson and me instead of john gray, adam king, mikey terito, kyle bailey, and me. And instead of poorly covering things like Bush and Rage, now we're poorly covering Kelly Clarkson and TLC.
If you're not doing anything on Friday, December 21 and you're looking to party a little bit, come check us out at the North Gate Tavern with our buddies, the Stellaphonics.
Oh, and for those wondering out there, the wisdom teeth came out nice.. I just have some pain to get over and I'll be a-ok.
Love always,
e-sam

blib blub

blizzilb busssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz...*

Goodbye, Pen.. Cat whistles, and going under the knife

Do you ever talk to pens or highlighters, maybe any other office supplies? Because I do. I just realized it as I was writing with a red pen and it was sort of fading in and out. I held it up to my face and said, "you know, this isn't really working out. I think it's time we went our seperate ways..." and walked to the trashcan. The exchange looked like this:



So goodbye, Office Depot brand red ink fine point pen. It was good while it lasted.
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The other day, me and Aimee were sitting on the couch and for some reason, we were talking about kittens. I think I was doing a kitten impression, to which Aimee followed up with this sound like "Beeeeyeeeeeeeeew...". I told her that kittens didn't sound like that, because they don't really have lips. So making a "b" sound isn't really possible, becuase lip pursing isn't really possible in the feline culture. If they could do that though, they could probably whistle. And I think we're all in agreement that would be pretty neat.
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Tomorrow morning, I'm having surgery. It's serious, motherfucker. I said SURGERY!!! True, the word is close to "sugary", but there's nothing sweet about it.. I'm getting 3 wisdom teeth jerked out of my skull. They've been telling be that I needed them out, oh, since High School, but I guess the apparant LACK of wisdom they've provided has persuaded me to wait till now. So tomorrow at 7:20 am, under the influence of valium, I will have an IV put into my body and drift into another realm. Hopefully I'll make it back. I kind of expect to be like in The Big Lebowski, when the Dude is flying through the air, drifting along until he realizes he's holding a bowling ball and falls to the ground...
Anyways, say a prayer. Shit like this makes me shake like a leaf.

Sam's Choice

Remember that toy My Little Pony? I bet it wouldn't have been as marketable if it had been My Little Equine. Mabye in Japan it might have worked. Here, probably not so much. ************************************************************
I haven't done anything really stupid in awhile. All of my recent bad behavior could probably be chalked up as just merely unwise. I stayed out the other night past midnight when I had to be at work early the next day. I mean, that was foolish but it wasn't ridiculous. It's about time though. ************************************************************
I was making coffee this morning, and I was like "Who came up with this shit?" Who first saw a coffeebean and said "Hey, wait - Idea! Let's grind this up and pour really hot water over it..." ************************************************************
The other day, I was at Sam's, signing up for a corporate account with my little brother for work. I started looking around and saw several Sam's Choice products. Hey look, good for Sam Walton and the choice he made. But do you think that was really his first choice? I doubt he actually preferred knock off imitations of namebrand products over the originals. Anyone who would make that kind of choice is kind of a weirdo.

Grandmas and Indians

Don't you hate it when you wake up in the middle of the night, and you're hot so you take the covers off and just lay there. Then you get cold. So you cover back up again. Then you're hot. Then you're irritated. And then...that's it - you're awake! I try and compromise and cover one leg up and leave the other half of myself exposed to the night bedroom air. But that's usually just setting up for some other weird uncomfort to settle into my restless body...
Man, that is some bullshit.
I woke up Sunday at 7:30am, not remembering much (oh tailgating 2007, how you've been a blur). I kind of wandered around the house until I could go back to sleep. Eventually the house was abuzz and it was time to begin the routine. Then we went to my grandmother's house in Denham, where everyone in my damned family remarked about how my hair was thinning. My aunt brought her dog. It was wearing a sweater. Then I ate too much. Then the Saints lost.

Anyways, a few days ago someone shot an arrow through my grandma's back yard and it lodged in a wall near her porch. That's kind of unnerving when you think about it. I mean, everyone loses grandparents, but what if your grandmother was felled by bow and arrow? That would be terrible on one hand, but it would make for an interesting story. I don't think my grandma wronged anyone. I mean, she's just a grandma. It's not like she's out in the backyard raising hell or anything, at least not to the best of my knowledge. They called the police and the cops came out and got the arrow, but it's not like CSI came out and measured trajectory and angles or anything. They probably just said "Oh ok. Well, i'm sorry someone shot an arrow at your house." Me and my brother thought it would be funny to set up a teepee in the backyard and say "Well Me-me, I think we might know who the culprits are. You have a tribe of indians living in the back yard..." but the rest of my family didn't think it would be too funny.
So that was probably the most interesting thing that happened this weekend.

Books and Bathrooms

This weekend, I was on a plane and I noticed several things. For one, planes are a place you'll see a lot of people reading... and in this day in age, it's probably one of the only places adults see a gaggle of open books and people actually engrossed in reading anything at all. I noticed that I paid particular attention to the titles of books, which told me a lot about people I didn't know. For instance, I saw a mother of 2 little kids reading "The Five People You Meet In Heaven", an older businessman reading "Rich Dad, Poor Dad", and several middle aged women reading various Danielle Steele type paperbacks. It was at this moment I realized they were probably looking at my book, which kind of made me self concious and kind of trying to distort their line of view of it. (I don't know why.. it wasn't a dirty book or anything). Suddenly, I wished I had a fake book cover entitled "Shit! Motherfucker Ass Bitch Whores and the Shitty Balls Ass Fuck Crap Shits!" I would act like I was engrossed in it, opening my mouth in an "Ohhhhhhh!" type of look, eyebrows raised, and nodding my head...
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Why does it never fail that when I walk into a public bathroom, walk to a urinal, and begin to pee.... a guy walks into one of the stalls and has explosive diarrhea? No embarrassment whatsoever. It's like "Hey everyone, listen to this!" Exploding ass man has no shame. If this guy is this loud at his house, there would be noise complaints. It's like when you're at a red light, and those annoying assholes pull up with the bass... Actually, i think I'm onto something here. The dickheads with the bass are the same dickheads with explosive public bathroom diarrhea. Now it all makes sense.
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Speaking of bathrooms, how come when you encounter a motion-activated faucet, they don't put out enough water to actually wash the soap off your hands. You're like "Oh great! Now I'm going to have to walk around all day with soapy fucking hands!" Who came up with this? Did regular faucets not do the trick for this guy? What's even worse is that you're up there practically beakdancing in front of the sensor trying to make it turn your water back on. That's what the world needs. A line of people dancing in front of public bathroom sinks trying to get soap off their hands. If I'd known before that I wouldn't be able to actually get the soap OFF my hands, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of beginning the hand washing progress. This is bullshit. Where's the Purell (tm)?

Commercial conclusions, Death, Teleporting, and the Carrier Pigeon.

Have you ever been watching a commercial on television, and shortly after the spot is over, thought about what would happen next? I know it's not like a feature film or anything, but sometimes I get attached to these characters rather quickly, and quite frankly I'd like a little closure. For the sake of making myself laugh though, my imaginary conclusions to these situations don't usually end in any particular way. In fact, the more bizzarre, the better. Take for instance that commercial where the guy is walking around on the cell phone saying "Can you hear me now? Good!" over and over again. Wouldn't it be better if he just kept walking around and eventually goes "Wait... What? What the fuck did you just say?! No! Fuck You!" and then just starts crying incontrollably... Or maybe gets hit by a car, or mugged, or even better, just explodes into flames. Now, if that happened, I'm telling you now - I would switch to whatever phone service that is immediately. What about the one where the guy is talking about baked beans, and his golden retriever is always trying to give out the secret recipe... I wish he'd be sitting there just going on and on, and when the dog starts talking, the guy would just start freaking out, screaming in fear and clawing at the set trying to escape. Or one where the guy just gets his satellite dish installed, and he's asking the technician about all the channels he gets. Suddenly the Direct TV guy walks out the door and, without any warning, gets picked up by a giant condor and flown to the north pole. There, the giant birds recruit him to be their leader, and he later returns to America to destroy any cable company that trys to compete with him. His name is Kon-Dor, Lord of the Satellite, and Hark! All will know his name!
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I've been having some run-ins here lately with the angel of death, and my word, I'm getting a little sick of it. One thing that funerals or memorial services can do though is make you realize your mortality. Unless you're a highlander or something. Either way, as I was recently at a memorial service that was excruciating, I felt like I should make some things clear before I myself one day head off into the great beyond. First of all, I'd like my obituary to mention something about how I was one of the original members of Metallica, and that I also had cured several types of cancer but never wrote the information down on how to do it. That way, people would be forced to figure out a way to reanimate me for my knowledge, in addition to getting a rare Metallica autograph. After I lead these scientists through many long and methodic experiments, I'd finally break the news to them that I didn't really know how to cure anything. What would they do? Kill me? Shit, if they had figured out how to bring people back to life, they'd probably had already gotten past the cancer curing thing. Note to self... come up with some other type of knowledge to take with you to the grave... Maybe if I could convince them about the Metallica thing, they'd spare me.
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Wouldn't it be great to build a teleporting machine? The answer is yes. It would be great. Unless you accidentally teleported yourself to the moment you were teleporting yourself, and then got stuck in this teleporting flux, over and over again. It would be fun if someone turned off the machine after they realized where you were. But if they never turned it off, you'd be in a world of shit.
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I think it's funny that although we've invented technology where you can actually pick up a telephone and call another person on a telephone, virtually anywhere... sometimes we opt for the simplicity of the text message. So we shun this incredible concept of actually speaking with people and embrace an older idea - essentially writing, but by either pressing number keys several times or with tiny little keyboards. This leads me to believe we'll eventually revert back to carrier pigeons, which would be a lot more fun. Either that or just screaming. Or better yet, screaming carrier pigeons.
"HEY!!! BILLY!!! LOOK UP HERE! HEY! JENNY SAID TO CALL HER LATER!!! HELLO?! JENNY SAID TO... YEAH.. ME. IT'S THE PIGEON! YEAH. SO CALL JENNY, OK?! "